Adventure Magazine Cover — page 173: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Dragon’s Claw McNeill could not have been received more cordially by a member of his own family, though this is not a good simile, for McNeill was wery much alone as far as relatives went. His host’s hearty man- ner, evident interest and keen appreciation of his doings and their financial possi- bilities soon put McNeill altogether at ease with the world. Only one untoward incident occurred to disturb two hours of satisfactory business talk and establish- ment of social relations. Cox ordered refreshments. The butler wasa Chinaman. Cox’s ménage was largely Chinese, he explained, and eminently satis- factory. Asa butler the man was perfect— silent, careful, deferential. Not once did he seem to glance from beneath his smooth crescent lids at master or guest while he did his serving; but, as he left the room, McNeill caught one oblique glance from those sloe-black eyes directed at him through the reflection of a mirror. The eyes seemed to appraise, to check up, to menace. McNeill knew what strange tricks imagi- nation plays when one allows any subject of peculiar interest to one’s mental or physical welfare to once become dominant. Still he was glad to find the fog had lifted when his car was ordered and he stepped out into the quiet Californian night. Cox pressed him hard to stay until the next morning, when they would motor down together and complete the negotiations that would set McNeill free to go to New York—and Helen. But, with the absence of the fog, the sense of danger seemed lessened. More- over, if any was brewing, McNeill wanted to see it through. It was late and the driver started back at a good pace for the city. In less than half a mile, however, the engine began to stall and he got out for investigation. ‘They were on the main road of the fairly populous suburb. On either side were Summer villas standing in considerable, well-tended grounds, be- hind walls or hedges, as the owners’ fancy chose. The chauffeur tinkered and overhauled and at last investigated the gasoline tank in default of better explanation of their trouble. He gave a sharp exclamation. “Empty!” he said. “TI told them to fill it up at the garage. We ought to have six or seven gallons and there ain’t a drop.” 159 “Did you see it filled?” asked McNeill. “No, I didn’t. me this way before.” “What did you do while I was with Mr. Cox?” “Chewing the rag with his driver. They got two touring cars and a big limousine. He was in the butler’s pantry. He’s a Chink but he sure treated me white. I guess I’d better go back and get some gas from Mr. Cox’s driver. He won’t be in bed yet. Two or three gallons ’ll get this boat in.” is “All right,” said McNeill. “Hurry!” The man started down the road and he watched him turn into the gates of the villa. There were a few lights in the nearer houses and the sound of music camé from one of them. It was all very quiet and peaceful. THEN, with a rush, they were on Sy him. Two figures hurled themselves =~ fie over the low wall to his right; he heard the swift patter of footsteps from behind as he stood at the rear of the car. Instinctively he backed up to it and felt for his pistol. The gun was gone. The Chinese butler had helped him on with his light coat and deftly lifted it. | The two assailants were coming for him, head on. Even in the uncertain light he felt sure they carried no weapons. Swiftly he reached out his long, sinewy arms, cupped a head in.either palm and brought them together with a thud that dropped the two senseless in the dust of the road. Then something flickered about his neck from behind. He knew what it was as it tightened. Some one had climbed into the tonneau and deftly slipped a bowstring about his neck. The cord tightened and sank into the flesh, beyond his power to loosen. A red glare came before him and he felt consciousness slipping away. __ Then sudden relief, though he sagged to the ground even as he sucked the air into his tortured lungs. The glaring headlights of a machine dazzled him as the oncoming car jarred to a standstill a few feet away, - and two men jumped out and came toward him. ‘“What’s up, old chap?” asked one of the strangers, giving him a hand. McNeill saw that the two whose heads he had cracked had disappeared. So had doubtless his other opponent. It was a But they never bunked | GEomicbooks.co